


Solid State Playmate

by Desade, Eviscera



Series: Ouchy-Verse [7]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Arguing, M/M, Oral Sex, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:18:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desade/pseuds/Desade, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eviscera/pseuds/Eviscera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A painful truth is revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solid State Playmate

It was easy to forget sometimes that there was a whole world outside the little sphere Clint inhabited with Loki.  When he got the call to come to headquarters for an evaluation, all Clint could think was another wasted afternoon that could be spent in a much more entertaining manner with much more entertaining company.

It was a minor inconvenience, at first.  After all, Fury had a habit of ruining Clint’s plans with Loki - _especially_ Clint’s plans with Loki. 

The purpose of his summons only became clear when he actually arrived, only to be blindsided by the agency psychiatrist trying to psychoanalyze him not five seconds after walking through the door. 

To say Clint was angry would be like saying the Hulk was grumpy; understatement didn’t even cover it.

Needless to say, Clint didn’t stay long, and when he arrived home still angry, he was met at the door by a concerned Norse god and more than a few questions to answer.

Loki pulled the door open and fixed the archer with a frantic look before Clint even had a chance to remove his keys from his pocket.

“What happened at this _evaluation_ ,” the god demanded.  ”Your director called here in quite a state, going on about you leaving before they were finished and not answering his repeated calls.  He demanded I send you back immediately.”

 

The scowl Clint had worn all the way home deepened into a near snarl.  ”Fury called here?  And talked to _you_?”

 

Loki nodded as he moved aside to allow Clint entry.  ”He did.  Although he did not talk _to_ me as much as he talked _at_ me.  It was mainly demands and veiled threats.”  The god’s brows drew together in an expression of concern.  ”What do they _want_ of you?”

Clint was seething, now.  His anger of an hour ago had boiled over, washing everything he saw in red.

They were never happy, there was no explaining to them that he wasn’t hiding anything, that his mind was still his own.  Always, they were picking, testing, prodding at him, wanting to cut deeper, dig harder, until he was nothing but a husked-out shell made of nothing but anger and resentment.

It almost seemed like they _wanted_ him to fail.  What they stood to gain from that, Clint had no idea, and he honestly didn’t care to know at this point.  All he wanted was to be left _alone_.  Each time they tried to dig for answers, they scraped up against his old wounds, forcing them open once again.

 

He just wanted to _forget_ , he didn’t want to remember how his will was stolen, and what he’d been made to do.  It was in the past, it was never going to happen again.

 

“They want to pick apart my brain until they find what they’re looking for,” Clint ground out between clenched teeth.  He strode into the apartment, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it violently against the wall.  “I’m not going back there, _fuck_ them.”

 

Loki stood his ground just inside the door as Clint raged.  He hated that SHIELD had once again brought his Hawk to such turmoil.  And the god wilted slightly as he considered that this situation was all his fault.  Were it not for his actions, then Clint would not have to suffer such treatment.  

With a sigh, Loki crossed to room to his archer’s side and placed his hand on Clint’s back, feeling the muscles tense and thrumming just beneath his touch.

“I’m so sorry,” the god murmured.  ”It seems that you are doomed to pay for my mistakes for some time to come.”

Clint turned his gaze to Loki, the confusion evident in his eyes.  ”What?  Why would you think that?  This isn’t your fault.”

“Oh, but it very much is, my Hawk.  Your director made that perfectly clear during his tirade.  Had I never exerted my influence over you, then you would not be in such a mess.”

 

The snarl curled Clint’s lip like an angry dog.  Of course Fury would tell him that, he _wanted_ Loki to doubt him.  From the very beginning, he’d been scheming and plotting a way to control the ‘dangerous war criminal’, and if he couldn’t control him, he wanted rid of him altogether. 

Looking into the guilt-ridden eyes of his fallen god, Clint could see his plan was working perfectly so far.

Clint turned to him, taking his face between his hands and leveling that burning glare into his eyes.  When he spoke, his voice was rough as gravel.

“You listen to me,” he bit out, firming his grip when Loki tried to take a hesitant step back.  “This is _not your fault_.  Whatever Fury told you, just… forget it.  Okay?  He wants me to slip up and give him a reason to get rid of you.  It’s _not_ gonna happen, because what he’s looking for _isn’t there_.”

 

“Clint, please,” Loki said quietly.  ”I am quite skilled when it comes to recognizing liars, and your Fury _is_ a liar.  Of the highest caliber, in fact.  But in this?  He spoke nothing but the truth.”  

Bringing long fingers up to curl around his Hawk’s wrists, the god gave a wistful smile before continuing.  

“Oh, and if only he _were_ lying about this matter.  It would not pierce my heart quite so deeply if the impetus for this…evaluation could be attributed to anything other than the time you spent under my thrall.  Fury still cannot understand how that happened, or how your little spider was able to break my hold over you, so it stands to reason he would be circumspect that it ever truly was undone.”

 

Clint’s brow furrowed as he considered Loki’s words.  He didn’t like the fact that his god felt the need to shoulder the entirety of the guilt.  And he liked it even less that Loki wasn’t _entirely_ wrong in his assessment.

“I can see you trying to find a way to convince me beyond the slightest measure of doubt that I am not at fault.  And I thank you for wanting to spare me that regret.  But you forget how painfully aware I am of my previous actions…and the repercussions you still suffer.”

Clint wanted to argue.  He wanted to make it clear that whatever happened before was in the past, that it didn’t matter - _shouldn’t_ matter - and to simply forget it had ever happened.  He didn’t want to think about this anymore, it was everyone else who seemed to want to dredge it up time and again.

“I didn’t forget,” he said, lowering his hands from Loki’s face and taking a step back.  “I was hoping you would, though.”

He was still _so angry_ , but it was hard to tell where to aim it.  He hated when his anger got the better of him, it was still so raw and violent sometimes, and he forgot that everything he said in anger, Loki took to heart in the worst ways possible. 

He should have known this would happen eventually.  It was too much to hope that Fury would let things be, he always had to meddle, there always had to be a catch, and he was bound and determined to find it.  The man was like a hound on a scent, even when that scent had gone cold long before.  If he was convinced Clint couldn’t be trusted, then he would keep digging until it was proven.

There wasn’t much left to dig through, and Clint was nearing the limits of his patience.  If things kept up this way… well, he knew how to disappear.  His words to Fury in his office months ago hadn’t been an idle threat; there were plenty of options for someone with his skill set.  Fury might, someday soon, find himself on the other end of Clint’s arrows.  And he would have no one to blame but himself.

That wistful smile stayed on Loki’s face, and he kept his hold on Clint’s wrists, rubbing his thumbs over the archer’s thundering pulse.  He held that burning glare as he said, “I know that is what you had hoped for, and I am sorry to have disappointed you.  Perhaps someday I _will_ be able to forget.  But not yet.  Not when I still see the evidence of my actions.  When you are made to pay for that which you had no control over.”

Clint ground his teeth and remained silent, eyes flashing.

“Yes, I still feel regret.  Yes, it still wounds me.  But not as it once did.  The pain is not as uncontrollable as when we first started this.  You have forgiven me, and that is more than I had ever hoped, Clint.  That brings me a measure of peace.  I just wish that you were able to share that peace with me.  But your director seems intent on not letting the past rest.  If I thought it would help…if I thought he would believe me…I would speak to him directly and do what I could to reassure him that this is not what he fears.  That I am not controlling you, or exerting my will in any way.”

And just like that, Clint’s anger was obliterated by the sharp spike of fear those words called up.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Clint growled.  His hands suddenly clamped down like vices around Loki’s wrists, pulling him the short distance between them to glare up into startled green eyes.  “Don’t even _think_ about going anywhere _near_ him.”

Loki blinked down at him, taken aback by the sudden change in his Hawk.  There was no room there for argument, it was clear this was one of those instances where Clint would not give so much as an inch.

It seemed unfair to Loki that Clint should have to bear this burden alone, when they both knew where the true blame lie.

“What am I to do, then?” he asked, searching his Hawk’s gaze.  “Sit idly while you shield me from the repercussions of my own actions?  I am not some fragile, broken thing you need guard, Clint.”

Clint wanted to tell him he was wrong, that’s exactly what he was, but that would only invite the god’s ire.  The last thing he wanted was to send Loki out, seething and determined to prove him wrong, and walk directly into the lion’s den.

“That’s exactly what you’re going to do, Loki,” Clint said, holding his eyes steadily.  “I will take the whole damn Helicarrier down again if I have to.  I will shoot my way through every Avenger they throw at me.  But I am not going to give them the chance to so much as _touch_ you.”

 

The quiet vehemence with which Clint stated these threats rattled Loki. The veiled rage in his eyes; the stiff posture and most of all, the sheer insistence that Loki keep himself as far from SHIELD as possible.  His Hawk was _terrified_ , and that did not sit well with the god.

“I will do as you ask,” Loki said firmly.  ”If only to keep you from carrying out such threats.  Can you not see that this is exactly what SHIELD would expect from you were you again under my control?  Should you someday feel the need to stand against your own to protect me, then they would think themselves vindicated in their assumptions.”  

Loki searched Clint’s eyes before continuing.  ”You must be careful, my Hawk.  Both in your words and your actions.  You fear them touching me, when it would be just as easy for them to cage you away, and separate us in that manner.”

“Let them try,” Clint growled.

“No,” Loki snapped.  ”For then I would be forced to go to war against SHIELD.  And that would not end well for any involved.  Is it not better to just allow them to ask their questions and be done with it?  I know it is frustrating to constantly have to prove yourself.  But when the alternative could lead to us being parted, is it not _worth_ it?”

 

“It would be better if they just _leave me the fuck alone!_ ” Clint growled.  “I don’t know what they want from me, but if they haven’t gotten it by now, they’re not _going_ to.”

Clint dropped his eyes and stepped away, releasing the grip he had on Loki’s wrists.  He swallowed the sick guilt in his throat when he saw the marks he’d left on the pale skin.  He’d let his anger and fear get away from him again; if Loki had been anyone else, he would have seriously hurt him. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said, his voice low and subdued.  “I’m getting tired of them jerking my choke chain all the time.”

He sat on the couch and put his head in his hands, his rage momentarily spent.  He could still feel it, though, thrumming just below the surface.  It was always there, lately.  He was beginning to think he knew at least an inkling of what Banner felt all the time.

Finally, Clint sighed and muttered, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna blow anyone up.  Even if they deserve it.”

Loki sank down on the couch and leaned into Clint’s side.  The god placed his hand low on his archer’s back and rubbed in small circles, hoping his touch would help to soothe.

“I believe I know what they want of you,” he said softly.

Clint turned his head and speared Loki with an expectant gaze.  ”What’re you thinking?”

“They believe you to still be under some measure of my control, yes?  And have you ever spoken to them at length about what your thrall was _like_?”

The slight stiffening of Clint’s spine did not go unnoticed by the god.  And when his Hawk spoke, his voice was terse.  ”No.  Never.”

Loki sighed.  ”I did not think you had.  After all, you have never even spoken of it to _me_.  I know what I experienced under the touch of the Tesseract, but I truly have no idea if it was similar to what you endured.  I would imagine that SHIELD wishes to finally extract some answers as to your time as my thrall.”

Of course they would.  It wasn’t enough that he’d been infected once before, now they wanted inside his head, too.  Clint wasn’t some lab rat they could dissect and analyze, damn it.

“There’s a reason I don’t talk about it,” he said.  His throat worked against the nausea he felt whenever he allowed himself to dwell on it for more than a few seconds.  He’d become adept at pretending it had never happened.

Loki sat silently beside him, his hand moving against his back in an attempt to comfort him.  Clint couldn’t bring himself to tell him it was a wasted effort, it was far too late for gentle caresses and soft words to make any difference. 

How to explain to someone the feeling of a presence slithering through his mind, picking him apart and moving things around until he was an obedient little assassin, ready and willing to do whatever was asked of him?  To have a front row seat to his own downfall, nothing but a spectator as he brought down everything he’d managed to build for himself?  To rail and scream and fight for every last second, and still be helpless to stop himself from putting a knife to his best friend’s throat?

Clint took a deep breath through his nose and clenched his jaw against the surge of nausea.  Even now, he could feel the phantom tingling at the back of his neck whenever the Tesseract had imposed its will on him, forcing him to hunt and kill his own.

The truly terrifying thing was, they were right, and there _was_ still a tenuous thread connecting him to Loki.  He’d never lost that deep-seated sense of loyalty, even when he was convinced he still hated the fallen god.

It was much stronger now, Clint realized.  His promise to protect Loki at any cost was evidence of that.  Why else would he stand in defiance, one man against an entity like S.H.I.E.L.D., if Loki wasn’t still locked within his mind?  Hadn’t he felt this same blind devotion while under the thrall?

Clint just shook his head helplessly.  “I’m not giving them what they want,” he said.  “They’re just going to have to wonder.”

“Then, would you at least speak to me about it,” Loki asked hesitantly.  ”I will stand by my promise not to attempt to contact SHIELD on your behalf.  But perhaps I could enlist Thor’s help in this matter.  I will need something to _tell_ him, though, Clint.”

The look the archer sent his way made Loki wince.  Those haunted eyes paired with the grim set of his mouth told the god that this was a request that had rattled his Hawk, calling up less than pleasant memories the smaller man wished to keep buried.

“I know this is difficult for you,” Loki began in a pleading tone.  ”As difficult as it was for me to share my Jotunn form.  But there should be no secrets kept between us, Clint.  And you simply must unburden yourself to _someone_.  Having something like this buried deep inside of your mind, with no way to lessen the pressure…over time, it will drive you mad.”  

Loki paused then, carefully considering his next words.  He gathered his Hawk’s hands into his own, and pressed a kiss into each palm before raising hopeful eyes to the man before him.

“Let me be that someone.  Please?”

Clint’s first instinct was to pull away, to put some distance between them.  The mere thought of telling _anyone_ about his time under the thrall was enough to make him sick.  He didn’t want to think about it, he wanted to _forget_ it, erase it from his mind and pretend it hadn’t happened.

But Loki was asking - pleading, really - for Clint to open up to him.  He was right, there should be no secrets between them, and this was the biggest secret Clint still held on to.  If Loki could show himself in his true form for Clint, then he should be able to do this for him.

Clint opened his mouth to speak, but his words failed him.  He’d spent so long keeping this locked away, he truly had no words to explain it.  He looked down at where their hands were twined together and cursed himself for _still_ being such a fucking coward.

“I don’t… know what you want me to tell you,” he finally said.  “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.  Just…talk to me, Clint.  Say all that you have kept caged inside for far too long.  Tell me what it felt like when you lost your control; and how it felt once it returned.  How did you _know_ when you were free of the Tesseract’s influence?  I wish to hear all of it.”

Clint tightened his grip on Loki’s hands, hoping to stabilize himself in some way.  To keep hold of something solid before he spun off into nothing.  The idea of laying bare all his deepest, most closely guarded secrets terrified him.  And a part of him was loathe to increase Loki’s guilt and regrets over the part he played in Clint’s unmaking.

The god seemed to know exactly what his Hawk was fearful of uncovering.  

Rubbing his thumb over Clint’s he said softly, “Do not hold back.  I promise you that while I still mourn the decision to place you under my thrall, I also know that my mind was not entirely my own.  I cannot completely blame myself, nor will you cause me any further pain in the telling of this tale.  You _must_ get it out, Clint.  Clear you head of these poisonous thoughts…and tell me.”

Just talk, he said.  Everything he’d kept inside all this time, Loki wanted to know.  Clint swallowed against the fear he could feel rising up to choke him.  This time, he wouldn’t let it.

“I was… scared,” he began hesitantly.  “So god damn scared.  I didn’t know what was happening, I didn’t know who _you_ were, didn’t know what you wanted.  You just… took me.  I could see it happening, but I couldn’t stop it, and that just scared me even more.”

 

He kept his eyes down, unwilling or unable look at Loki, not while he was telling him _this_.  Not many people could pinpoint the exact moment their lives were ruined, but Clint was all-too aware.  Sometimes, he could still feel the pressure of the staff against his chest, hear the low hum of power as it seeped into him, ran through his veins and sang its song as it happily went about casually destroying his mind.

 

“It made me… _want_ things,” he went on, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words for what he needed to say.  “I wanted to… make you happy, I guess.  Whatever you wanted, I wanted, too.  I wanted to be close to you, keep you safe, get you whatever you needed.  And when I could, it was almost sickening how happy it made _me_.

“I know you keep saying I shouldn’t blame myself, but it’s so hard to do that when I can still remember how much I wanted to kill every last person who got in your way.”

Clint finally looked up and speared Loki with such a haunted look it caused his breath to hitch.

“And I still would…”

Loki struggled to keep his face impassive at the halting, hesitant description of his Hawk’s downfall.  The pain and confusion was evident in Clint’s voice as he relived the moment when his will was stolen, to be replaced by the Tesseract’s purpose.  It hurt the god’s heart to hear of the fear that had overtaken Clint, and the fact that he refused to meet Loki’s eyes during the telling was most troubling of all.

His own experience with the Tesseract had been far different.  Yes, it had colored his perceptions, and whispered suggestions to him as to how best attain his goals.  But it had not _fully_ taken his will.  He still retained the lion’s share of his self, even under that wavering blue glow.

And the intense loyalty, the drive to please that Clint described?  That had not been present at _all_.  In dealing with the Other, Loki had been his insolent self, refusing to bend his knee and simper before the ‘greater power’.  As long as their goals had run parallel, then he’d been content to provide his services.  But once their paths has diverged, Loki had continued on with his own plans, the Other be damned.

 

The look Clint sent his way sank sharp claws deep into his soul.  There was such _doubt_ coloring those steel blue eyes.  It overshadowed the hurt held within and sent a wave of fear coursing through the god.  

And suddenly all the pieces fell into place.

It was now painfully obvious why Clint never wanted to discuss his thrall with him, and even more-so why he absolutely refused to tell SHIELD anything.  The phrasing of the tale; the hesitant wording made it clear that the archer believed that there still _might_ be a shred of that connection remaining.  

 

He should have known; should have at least suspected given the venomous denials that Clint so frequently voiced.  His constant denials should have struck Loki as exactly what they were.  Not the frustrated insistence that there was nothing of the sort remaining…but the frantic attempt of the archer to convince himself that the thrall was _gone_ ; that it was _not_ coloring his feelings for his god.

But Loki had only seen that which he so wanted.  A return of his feelings for his Hawk.

His breath hitched in his throat, and he felt a distinct pain deep in his heart at the realization that Clint doubted the very truth of his love.  

Sliding his gaze to the side, Loki broke that haunted stare, at a loss for words.

Clint saw the pain in Loki’s eyes before dropping his gaze, and he swore bitterly under his breath.  This was exactly why he didn’t want to say anything, no matter how many assurances that Loki gave, he _knew_ the god wouldn’t like what he had to say.  He knew how it sounded, he knew what it looked like now that he knew just how far the thrall had gone into his mind.  It hadn’t just made him follow orders, it _changed_ him, on a level that went far beyond a mere compulsion to do as told.

But Loki had asked him to tell him the truth.  Clint wasn’t going to lie, or paint it as anything other than what it was.

“I still remember everything,” he went on, trying to ignore the trembling of the hands still caging his own.  “Right up until ‘Tasha knocked me out.  I wanted to kill her.”  The nausea threatened again when he said those words aloud.  “I _would_ have killed her.  She was trying to keep me from you.”

Clint slid his hand from Loki’s slack fingers and rubbed at the skin of his forehead, in the same spot it had connected with the unforgiving metal railing that had knocked him back to his senses.

“I woke up and they’d strapped me down, like a rabid animal.  She told me you got away.  I can remember thinking you didn’t need me as much as I thought you did.  And that thought _hurt_.  It shouldn’t have, but it did.  You didn’t need me anymore, you left me behind.  And then I got angry.”

Loki was silent throughout his telling, and Clint could feel the distress coming off him in waves.  He knew this wasn’t easy for him to hear, to know that, in the end, Clint’s feelings were still just a product of his hold over him.  That they would never have been there if the thrall hadn’t been broken so suddenly and violently.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” he said into the heavy silence.  “I know what you want from me.  I know how you feel about me.  I wish I could tell you what you want to hear.”

“Do not apologize,” Loki replied quietly, eyes still downcast.  ”You have done no wrong; simply told me the truth as I requested.”  He paused before adding,”As you no doubt should have some time ago.”

“I didn’t…”

Loki raised one hand and gave a quick shake of his head, eyes closing briefly.  ”No.  Forgive me,” he said tersely.  ”I cannot blame you for not wishing to speak this aloud.  Nor should I blame you for not telling me sooner.  When we first met again, your shock upon being confronted with my presence was forefront in your mind.  And I was such a _needy_ , insistent thing in those days.  So set on redeeming myself in your eyes.  So consumed with my want of you.  And now I must wonder if that particular seed of attraction was sown by the Tesseract herself, much in the same way she _infected_ you with your want of me.”

The god pushed to his feet, pacing the length of the room.  He was filled with an indefinable feeling; too painful for rage, and too angry for grief.  It was manifesting as a desperate, nervous energy, and he felt the need to move; to escape.  But he carried the feeling along with him, twisting deep in his belly, and he clenched his teeth against the bitter words that threatened to spill forth.  

Clint watched silently from the couch, and Loki could feel the weight of the other man’s stare.  

“How could I have been so _blind_ ,” Loki asked, almost to himself.  ”To think that there was anything about me that could have inspired you to love?  To allow myself such _hope_?”

Wheeling around, Loki fixed Clint with a bright stare.  The archer was unsure if it was rage or tears that made Loki’s eyes glitter, and he quickly decided that it didn’t actually matter.  It was a deep, raw emotion all the same.

“Why,” Loki demanded.  ”Why would you allow this to progress as far as it has if you were unsure?  I kept my distance, seeking no more than your friendship.  Thinking your love unattainable; that I was _undeserving_ of such a gift.”  

Uttering a bitter laugh, Loki ran trembling hands through his hair before continuing.  

“I even went so far as to _deny_ you the night I came to collect you from that vile tavern!  I wanted to be certain that you would not regret such a decision when your head was cleared of drink.  And you insisted… _swore to me_ …that you were _sure_!   ** _Why?!_**  Why would you lie to me about such a thing, Clint?!”

Loki’s voice broke on his Hawk’s name, the ache in his throat nearly choking him.  Crossing his arms over his chest, the god gripped his upper arms tightly and waited for an answer.

Clint sat there, letting Loki’s words wash over him like a tidal wave.  He knew better than to try to silence him, no matter how painful the words were to hear, saturated in bitterness and self-loathing. 

When Loki accused him of lying, however, Clint wasn’t able to keep silent any longer.

“I didn’t lie!” he argued, rising to his feet, though he made no move to come any closer.  “I meant every word I said.  That fucking cube didn’t make me _want_ you, Loki, it has nothing to do with _that_!”

He could tell his words were not believed, and Clint could feel the helplessness beginning to rise within him.  How could he explain this now, in a way that would make sense to someone outside of his head? 

The Tesseract had never once caused him to look on Loki as anything other than - for lack of a better term - his master.  Yes, he wanted to do what he could to please him, but that did not mean he _wanted_ him.  Not in the sense that he did now.  That had come later, _much_ later, only after they had come to know each other outside of the anger and hatred and fear.

 

It had been easy, so very easy, for Clint to develop those feelings.  Every word of praise, every gesture of kindness and appreciation and acceptance Loki gifted him with was like handing him everything he’d ever wanted.  In a very real sense, it _was_ everything he wanted; nothing more than to make him happy.

Which is why it was killing him now to see how much he’d hurt Loki with this admission.  All he wanted was to soothe the ache he could see within those bright green eyes.  Knowing he was the cause of it,  seeing the way Loki held himself, as if he might fall apart with one more harsh word, caused him pain so acute it was literally choking him.

“I know I should have told you about this a long time ago,” he admitted.  “I just… I didn’t want to think about it.  I thought if I left it alone, it wouldn’t matter anymore.  I didn’t want you to think I was just blindly following you.  It’s not like that.  It never was.”

“No?  Then tell me what it _is_ like,” Loki hissed. 

He dug his fingers deep into the flesh of his arms, hoping the bite of pain would center him.  Loki felt dangerously close to losing control; his emotions roiling inside him like a storm-tossed sea, and that small, hated voice in his mind was howling out in glee over the torment he was facing.

And through it all wove the thought that this was the beginning of the end.  That he had once more managed to somehow ruin the very thing he wanted most.

Every doubt, every bit of self-hate was rising to the surface, and the mask of calm was slipping.  He could feel the tears threatening, but he bit them back and straightened his spine, clenching his teeth against the sobs that wanted to break free.  

“Make it clear for me, Clint,” the god continued in a tight voice.  ”Exactly  _when_  did you start to return my feelings?  When did you  _know_  that you wanted me, and  _how_  did you know that the remains of the thrall played no part in your feelings?”

Clint could see the cracks beginning to widen in Loki’s mask of calm, and what lay beneath was possibly the most frightening thing he had ever known.  One wrong word would shatter that mask.

His first question was easy enough to answer.

“The first time you said my name,” Clint managed to say, pushing the words past the tightness in his throat.  He lifted his gaze to hold Loki’s, and that tightness only grew at the sight of the pain and betrayal he saw there.  “You never called me by my name before.  I wasn’t… expecting it to make me feel the way it did.”

“And how is that?” Loki asked, his voice laced with disdain.

“Like you saw me,” he answered.  “Saw _me_ , not just what you could get from me.  Not some broken, beaten _thing_ you wanted to fix because you broke it.” 

It was hard to keep his voice steady, he could feel his pulse in his teeth, his body was starting to shake with the need to prove himself to his broken god.

“I tried not to, I really did,” he went on, taking a step closer to where Loki still held himself, arms wrapped around his body as if he might fly apart.  “You just… got under my skin _,_ in a hundred little ways.”

He could see Loki still didn’t believe him, the doubt still clouded his eyes, he could read it in the set of his jaw and the stiffness of his spine.

“I know what you’re thinking, but the cube didn’t make that happen,” he said.  “Maybe it let me look at you, but it couldn’t make me _see_.  It was only because I looked deeper.  I didn’t _have_ to.  I just wanted to know you, maybe find out why you wanted _me_ so much.  I didn’t know I would end up wanting you back.”

The emotion in Clint’s words rang true, and the pleading cast to the archer’s face sent a twinge of regret through Loki.  His Hawk was obviously hurting, and the god’s first instinct was to go to him and soothe away the fear and frustration the other man was feeling.  But that bright bloom of pain and doubt that had taken hold in Loki’s heart kept him rooted in place and he dropped his gaze to his feet.

He had opened himself to Clint as he had no other.  Given him the full measure of his heart; submitted the entirety of his being to the man that stood shaking before him.  He had even gone so far as to show him his true form; something that no other living soul save the All-Father himself had ever seen.  Loki had lowered the walls he’d built around himself and allowed the archer inside; he  _trusted_  Clint with all he was; and his Hawk had accepted him fully and without judgment.

 

Huffing out a deep sigh, the god asked softly, “So it was my own attraction that indirectly sparked your own want?  By attempting to discern _why_ I wanted you, it led you to…deeper feelings for me?”

Clint nodded, taking another hesitant step forward.  ”I didn’t plan on this happening.  It…just did.”

“Is that not the way of love,” Loki mused.  ”You cannot pin down the beginnings; the why’s and wherefore’s.  But nonetheless, one day you realize that the whole of your existence has shrunk down until but one other is included.  And to be apart from them is a physical torment.”

Loki raised his head, catching Clint’s eye.  ”I want to believe you; so very badly,” he murmured, his voice wracked with pain.  ”But as I told you in the beginning, I have a darkness in me that insists I do not _deserve_ happiness.  That I do not _deserve_ the love of one such as yourself.  And your inability to call what you feel for me ‘love’ only serves to strengthen that belief.  And now this?  To discover that even a shred of that cursed connection remains?  I-I do not…know what to think.”

As soon as Clint heard those words, his walls slammed shut against the flood of pain they called up.

He knew he should have told Loki this from the start.  It wasn’t something he could just ignore, it wasn’t going to go away simply because he never acknowledged it.  He was painfully aware of how fragile Loki’s trust was, and this was not something that could be brushed under the rug to be forgotten.

Clint always knew he would end up ruining this thing between them.  In his attempts to keep the ugly truth contained, he’d broken that trust.  There was no way Loki would look at him the same, there would always be that doubt clouding his eyes whenever he looked into them.

He stepped back, retreated, really, and let his gaze fall to the floor.

 

There was nothing Clint wanted so much as to be able to tell his fallen god exactly what he wanted to hear. 

Yes, Clint loved him.  He’d known he’d loved him long before Loki ever admitted feeling anything similar.  His fear, however, was not in admitting it to himself, or even to Loki.  It was that damn cube; there was no way for Clint to know if his feelings were his own or something the Tesseract had planted. 

He didn’t know why it would do something like that, but there was a lot Clint didn’t know about the Tesseract.  Why it chose to take him over completely, and only give passing suggestions to Loki.  Why it stole his will entirely and forced him to watch behind his own eyes as he carried out his orders, like some kind of machine.

If it could do all of that, why not this as well?

Clint knew how he felt, there was no denying that.  He just didn’t know _why_ , if it was his own or the product of something else.  He loved Loki enough to know that if he told him how he felt, and it somehow came out that it was nothing but a planted emotion, it would tear the god to pieces.  Better he never say it than make it one more placating lie, another brick he could use to add to the wall he had built up around himself.

Well, it didn’t seem to make a difference, now. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling, still unable to look up and see the hurt in those green eyes.  “I never wanted to lie to you.  Even if I did say it, you’d never believe me.  And I wouldn’t blame you.”

The pain in Clint’s voice called up an answering ache that tightened around Loki’s heart, and he watched as the strongest mortal he had even known slowly fell apart.  

His Hawk’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor as the minute tremors that ran through him intensified, wracking that solid frame.  The archer’s hands hung limply at his side, his stance one of defeat, but it was that step backward that was the most telling.  Loki knew Clint; knew him in every possible way, and he did _not_ retreat.  It simply was not in his nature.  And for him to do so now told the god all he needed to know of the other man’s state of mind.

 

“You haven’t…actually _lied_ to me,” Loki said softly, his arms tightening around himself.  ”Simply failed to tell me the whole truth.  And for as much as I disapprove of this course of action, I understand _why_ you did it.  You thought you were protecting me; keeping me from this hellish doubt that has been plaguing you from the start.”

Clint nodded mutely, eyes still downcast.

“Can you not see how much worse it is to have discovered this at such a late date,” Loki whispered.  ”If you had simply told me this from the very start, then perhaps we could have set about trying to dispel your doubts.  Together.  This is not a burden you should have ever had to shoulder alone, Clint.  It has done nothing but eat away at you; twisting your perceptions until you truly did not know what to think…or what you were feeling.”

Loki huffed out a deep sigh before finishing.

“I cannot blame you in trying to protect me.  It is what one does for those that they care about.  You just went about it in precisely the wrong way, and in doing so it has caused us both harm.  And now we must attempt to repair this…heartache  Because for as deeply as I am shaken by this knowledge, I absolutely refuse to believe that my love for you is the result of an outside influence.  And I will _not_ give you up, Clint.”

Loki’s assurances should have brought nothing but relief, but Clint could only feel shocked surprise. 

Repair?  Was there a way to fix this… mess?  Hadn’t he warned Loki this would happen?  He _knew_ this would happen, and he still wanted to tie himself to someone like Clint, someone who would only end up hurting him again and again.  It was just what he did, seemingly without even trying.

He risked lifting his eyes, to see Loki staring evenly back at him.  There was no hint of doubt there now, he meant everything he said.  Despite what his misguided intentions had caused, the damage he’d done to his already damaged god, Loki was willing to keep Clint at his side.

“How?” he ground out from a throat that felt scratched as if with broken glass.  “How are we supposed to fix _this_?  Why do you still want _me_ when I keep _doing this to you_?!”

 

“Because I love you,” Loki said simply.  ”Because you have my best interests at heart, even if your means of protecting them are sometimes…misguided.  Because in spite of the pain and misunderstanding that seems to plague us, I am still happier with you than I could _ever_ be without you.”

Clint gaped at Loki as the god calmly recited his reasons for still wanting to keep him around.  He had promised early on to not be one of the people that hurt Loki, and he’d not only failed to keep that promise, but had blown it straight to Hel, time and again.  And yet, Loki was just as committed as he’d ever been, and Clint was mystified by that.

“As to _how_ this can be fixed,” Loki continued.  ”I am not entirely certain.  All _I_ can do is try to move past the doubt this knowledge has brought into my mind.  And I imagine that truly _examining_ your feelings rather than trying to bury them would be a good way for you to start on the road to healing.”  

He gave Clint a pointed stare then, and unwrapped his arms from around himself before he slowly crossed the room to stand before his archer.  

“I do not know the reason you still struggle to understand why I want you.  It is very clear to me, even though I have trouble quantifying it.  But I do know that I should not have accused you of being a liar, Clint,” Loki murmured, raising his hand to cup the archer’s cheek.  ”That was my own insecurity and hurt causing me to lash out.  I am _so_ very sorry to have hurt you.”

 

Clint could only stare in numb shock.  Why was Loki apologizing to _him_?  He wasn’t the one hiding potentially life-ruining secrets with a secret government agency sniffing after him for anything they could use against him.  He wasn’t the one who made a promise to himself and consistently broke it, time and again, despite his every effort to keep it.

It was only then, in his bewildered confusion, that Clint finally realized the true depths of Loki’s feelings for him.  When he said he loved him, he didn’t mean it the way most people did, to label a lukewarm affection that could dissipate as quickly and easily as it had come.  He meant he loved _him_ , all of him, even the parts that were broken and didn’t work right.  He loved _him,_ and all of his clumsy attempts to shield him from pain, even the pain he himself had caused.

He didn’t want this to come between them, he wanted things to stay as they were.  Yes, they’d had their share of conflict and strife, and there was always going to be that underlying thread of tension that stemmed from their fractious beginnings, but Clint had been… happy.  He supposed that was the word he was looking for.  He was happy with Loki, as happy as he could ever hope to be with anyone.

He’d worked himself up to such a state that Loki’s touch almost caused his knees to buckle.  Even after this, after Clint was so sure he’d ruined everything, Loki still wanted him.

The tenuous hold he’d managed over his emotions finally snapped, and Clint simply buried his face in Loki’s chest and slumped against him.  His arms came up, hesitantly, and he gripped the back of Loki’s shirt, shutting his eyes tightly and breathing in his scent.  His teeth clenched at the feeling of relieved tears prickling at his eyes, and tried to still the trembling that wracked his body.

Loki still wanted him.  He kept telling himself that, repeating it like a mantra until the thought could take root, and maybe grow into something he could actually believe.

With a pleased hum, Loki wrapped his archer in a tight embrace, his right hand coming up to nest in short brown hair while his left splayed low on Clint’s back.  Scratching his nails lightly against his Hawk’s scalp, Loki tried to soothe the tremors, murmuring, “All will be well, I swear.  In time, this pain will fade away to nothing more than a dimly remembered moment.  A difficulty we managed to overcome, as we have all previous instances.  Do you trust in this?”

Clint gave a slight nod, face still hidden against the hard press of Loki’s chest.

“Do you trust in me,” Loki asked, his left hand stroking over the curve of his archer’s spine.  ”In my love?”

“I do,” Clint replied without pause.

“Good.  And I trust that you will find the truth of your emotions should you just examine them closely.  And until you are certain of what you feel, then I shall hold enough certainty for us both.”

Clint tightened his hold upon his god, grinding his forehead into Loki’s solid frame and allowing the slender fingers in his hair, and the stroking hand at his back to work at banishing the worst of his anxiety.

The calmer he became, the more Clint began to see just how much he stood to lose if Loki ever did decide he didn’t want him.  He’d felt like his whole world was crashing down, the one solid thing he’d balanced everything on top of was wobbling, dangerously close to toppling completely. 

Clint wasn’t sure he could survive the crash.

But Loki wasn’t going anywhere, if he hadn’t left by now, he probably wasn’t going to.  And there were no more secrets being kept, nothing of this magnitude anyway.  He would go to his grave still holding onto what happened in Budapest, but that wasn’t something _anyone_ needed to know.

“I’m not very good at this,” he muttered, his voice muffled by Loki’s shirt.  “Never got this far with anyone before.  It’s… new, for me.  I just don’t want to mess this up.  I don’t… know what I’m doing.”

Admitting that was like more painful than he thought it would be, but Loki needed to know that his fumbling attempts to make him happy went so horribly wrong because he had no idea how to do it properly.

“I’m trying, though,” he went on after a moment of silence. 

Loki’s fingers were still threading through his hair, and he focused on that rather than on the expectant silence of his god as he listened to him babble on.

“So I am the…first you have allowed this far beyond your walls,” Loki asked softly.

Clint nodded and leaned his head into the god’s touch; the feather-light caresses sending a shiver down his spine.  ”Never really _wanted_ that before.  Didn’t have room in my life for something this big.”

Loki held his silence for a long moment, digesting Clint’s words.  They had never before discussed his Hawk’s previous relationships in detail, and the thought that none had progressed to this point both pleased and troubled the god.  Pleased him that he was the first to inspire Clint to want something more; troubled him that his archer felt so lost as to how to properly react to a connection of such depth. 

“You needn’t fear that you will ruin anything between us, Clint,” Loki soothed.  ”And you are not nearly as bad at this as you think.”

Clint uttered a short, strained laugh.  ”Right,” he said.  ”Because look how well I’ve done so far.”

“Yes,” the god affirmed, tugging his Hawk’s head back to meet his steady gaze.  ”You _have_ done well.  Such happiness you have brought me, time and again.  And despite your doubts as to the origins of your emotions, and even though you have yet to call it such, you have made me feel _loved_.  I thank you for that, for it is the greatest gift I could ever be given.”

He was doing it again; when Loki started talking like this, Clint could feel the weight of the words settling in his mind, flipping that switch that told him he’d done something right.  He knew what it was, and just like before, it called up a dull ache when he thought about where it had come from, why it was there.

The more he thought about it, though, the less Clint began to care about the where and the why and the how, and simply focused on the fact that Loki was happy with him.  For so long, he’d questioned it; why _him_?  Why _now_?  Why not someone else who didn’t have a tendency to reach into his chest, take hold of his heart and crush it on a semi-regular basis?

 

He realized now that most of the pain he caused Loki was _because_ he questioned.  Something within him balked at ever being found worthy of anyone’s love, much less someone like Loki, who, Clint was quite sure, could have anyone he wanted.  Why he would choose Clint had always eluded him.

 

Questions lead to doubts, doubts lead to secrets, secrets lead to _this_ , both of them ripping each other to shreds on the inside.  The solution was easy to see now that he took the time to examine his reasons.  He would simply have to stop questioning Loki’s affection and take it for what it was.

Clint didn’t know why this was so hard for him.  He wasn’t generally a coward.  He didn’t know how he could leap off a skyscraper without even looking, and yet still be afraid of letting someone say three little words to him.

Well, no more; Clint had had it with making Loki cry, and while the god hadn’t actually shed tears this time, he’d come damn close to it, and that was just as bad. 

Clint wrapped his arms around Loki’s middle, pulling him tight to his body. 

“Don’t have to thank me, Princess,” he said, holding Loki’s gaze steadily.  “You put up with more than enough from me.”

A slight smirk played upon Loki’s lips as his Hawk pulled him close.  

“You say that as if I have been nothing but a _joy_ to be with,” the god murmured, holding his archer’s gaze.  “No, you have had to put up with an equal measure of strife and heartache at my hands.  We are…volatile, Clint.  As such, we hold the ability to inflict both pain _and_ pleasure in untold amounts.  And I would not trade that for anything.”

“We’re definitely not easy,” Clint agreed quietly.  ”That’s for sure.”

“No.  But as it is said, nothing worth having comes easy.  There will be hardships and misunderstandings, yes.  But we will endure.  I have no doubt of that.”

Clint gave a slight nod at that.  ”It’s sort of what we do,” he said, tightening his embrace and feeling Loki lean against him, a pleased rumble growing in the god’s chest.  

Loki stared down at his Hawk, those steel blue eyes burning brightly up at him in return.  Gone was the doubt; the pain and confusion swept away, and in their place Loki saw nothing but relief, and the ever present _want_ Clint had for him.  

That smirk spread into a wanton grin as Loki purred, “And now that we have endured the pain, perhaps we can revisit the pleasure?  I much prefer that, you know.”

Clint’s only answer was to claim the god’s mouth in a sudden, bruising kiss.

That voice, pitched low and seductive in Clint’s ear, was all the goading he needed   He took Loki’s invitation greedily, holding nothing of his desperation back.  He clutched the tall, solid body to his own as if he might suddenly float away, and he nipped and bit at that mouth as if to keep him pinned in place.

If Loki was surprised by the sudden voraciousness of his Hawk, he showed no sign, and only returned Clint’s needy embrace.  The hand carding through his hair became a clutching fist, holding Clint’s mouth to his own, tilting his head just so.

Clint wasn’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly Loki’s back was pressed to the wall.  He kicked Loki’s legs apart and slid his own between them, grinding against the growing hardness of his arousal.  A low groan leaked from between their dueling mouths, and neither could be sure who made the sound.

When Clint pulled back for a breath, he glared up into Loki’s eyes, intent on clearing away any lingering traces of doubt within the god’s mind as to how much he wanted him.  He wasted no time, gripping the fabric of Loki’s shirt in both hands and ripping it up the middle of his chest, exposing the pale skin to his eyes and hands and mouth.

Loki’s gasp of surprise morphed into a groan as Clint latched on to his collarbone and sucked a bruise into his skin.  He now had both his hands in his hair, guiding that punishing mouth where it was needed most, and Clint wasn’t surprised to feel the thunder of the god’s pulse beneath his lips.  He sunk his teeth in at the same time he pressed his hips up, grinding his own arousal against Loki’s.

“I prefer this, too,” Clint panted before licking a hot stripe over the angry mark he’d left on Loki’s throat.  “Tell me what you want.  _Whatever_ you want.”

Loki bucked against his Hawk, stuttering out a broken cry at the hard press of Clint’s teeth into his flesh.

“Whatever I want,” he gasped.  ”That would be what I _always_ want.  You.  In every possible way.”

“Greedy,” Clint growled into Loki’s ear before scraping his teeth over the sensitive hollow beneath.  ”Gonna have to narrow it down a little, I’m afraid.”

“Why,” the god asked in a pouting tone, rolling his head to the side to allow the archer to once again mark him; voicing a needy whine at the sharp wash of pain before that tongue soothed it away.  ”Don’t you _want_ to give me everything you have?”

“Of course I do,” Clint chuckled, pushing his hips forward, grinding against Loki’s.  ”Can’t you feel how eager I am to give you what you want?  You just have to tell me what you want.”

Loki dropped his glittering gaze to His Hawk’s face, and a pleased smile curled his lips.  His hands moved to Clint’s waist and Loki turned the smaller man, pressing him back against the wall as he purred,”What I _want_ is to use my mouth on you.”  

And with that, Loki sank to his knees before his archer.

Clint’s heart thumped in his chest as Loki knelt before him, holding his gaze all the while.  His hands pressed to the wall behind him as he felt long, slender fingers slide up his legs to curl in the waist of his pants.  He watched as those same fingers worked his belt open, deftly unbuckling it and pulling it from the loops to fall to the floor.

When he said he would give Loki whatever he wanted, he wasn’t expecting _this_.  He wasn’t used to anyone _wanting_ to do this.  It was just one more thing about Loki that Clint was coming to realize; he really did want him, in every possible way, including this.  

Well, he wasn’t going to complain, not when those fingers were working the button of his pants open as he nuzzled against his stiffening length, gazing impishly up at him through his lashes.

“I am hearing no complaints,” Loki murmured as he parted the fabric of his pants and reached inside, running his fingers over the heated flesh of his arousal.

“Nuh-uh,” Clint agreed, tilting his hips just the slightest bit into his touch.  “Like I said, what-whatever you want.”  His breath hitched as Loki’s fingers closed around his cock, freeing him from the constraints of his pants.

“Such a generous creature you are, my Hawk,” Loki said, his breath ghosting across the sensitive head.  Clint bit his lip against the pleading whine caught in his throat.  “Always so willing to please me.”

Clint didn’t trust his voice enough to answer with words, instead he brought one hand down to thread his fingers through Loki’s hair.  He didn’t grip or pull or tug, simply let his fingers card through the inky black strands.  He held Loki’s gaze steadily, fairly petting the god at his feet, and felt that ache tugging once more at something in his chest.

He was _always_ willing to please his god, whatever he wanted, he had only to ask, and Clint would do his best to deliver.  He wanted nothing more than to keep Loki happy, and not entirely because of the remnants of the thrall, but because Loki was so rarely content.  Always shadowed by deep regrets and wracked with guilt; haunted by memories of his torture and deaths, all the injustices heaped on him that slowly turned him into the desperate thing he’d been on their first meeting.

Clint wanted to do all he could to erase that from Loki’s mind, even if only for a few moments.  If this was what Loki needed to content himself, then Clint would give him that.

The look in Clint’s eyes sent a slow burn through the kneeling god.  Caged within that stare Loki could see such longing, a glitter of lust, and even if his Hawk couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud, there _was_ love present.  Giving a slow pull to the hardened flesh in his hand, Loki thrilled to the low, rumbling moan his archer voiced, and he arched into Clint’s touch as those skillful fingers combed through his hair, soothing, yet maddening at the same time.

Holding his Hawk’s gaze, Loki’s tongue slid out and he lapped softly as he continued to stroke.  Clint’s breath came faster, and his hips stuttered forward, unconsciously seeking the wet heat of Loki’s mouth.  

He watched Clint’s face closely as he teased and licked, dragging increasingly hoarse cries from the archer’s throat.  The smaller man’s head ground back against the wall, but he held Loki’s eye, staring back as his god tempted him with lips, teeth and tongue.  And as Loki’s free hand slid up and over his Hawk’s trembling thigh, he leaned forward, taking Clint’s arousal deep.

Ragged curses fell from Clint’s suddenly slack lips, and his head dropped forward.  He brought his free hand up to tangle in Loki’s hair, cradling his head as the god began to move; swallowing him down fully before pulling back until just the crown was pressed against those slicked and swollen lips.  

Loki paused, eyes glittering up at his trembling Hawk, and he flashed a wanton grin before asking, “And does this please you?  Tell me how much you enjoy my attentions, Clint.  I would hear your words as I strive to render you speechless.”

Clint huffed out a tiny chuckle and looked down at the kneeling god, scratching his nails gently against his scalp.  The glint of amusement in those eyes called up an answering smirk, and his hips gave the slightest thrust towards that waiting mouth.

“You know exactly how much your attentions please me,” he said, biting back a moan when Loki swiped his tongue out to tease against the underside of his cock.  “Damn it, Loki, that fucking _mouth…_ ”

 

It was getting harder for Clint to hold himself back from simply gripping Loki’s hair and forcing his cock down the god’s throat.  He didn’t want this to be a simple, mindless rutting, like so many of their interludes were.  He wanted Loki to know he thought of him as more than that - _so_ much more.  If he just wanted someone to fuck, he could get that any number of places from any number of people.  He _wanted_ Loki, needed him in a way he’d never wanted or needed anyone else.

He knew Loki wanted to break him, to cause his control to snap and bring out the feral beast that he so loved to provoke,  Any other time, he might have let him, but right now, he was still too emotionally raw to want to simply take what he wanted.  Something within him wanted to see what Loki would gift him with, without it being demanded first.

Somewhere within the archer, there was still that need to be wanted, to be _shown_ he was wanted.

Instead of tightening his hold in Loki’s hair as the god surely expected of him, Clint slid his hand from the back of his head to run his thumb along the ridge of his ear.  Loki shivered at the gentle caress and looked up at him curiously. 

Clint only looked down at him, and let his eyes take on a pleading cast as he whispered, “Please use that mouth on me…”

Loki’s breath hitched; first at the quiet request, and then at the fully open look his Hawk was giving.  In their time together they had enjoyed each other in every possibly way.  Both giving, and taking, all that they had to offer in a frenzied, often violent display of pure need.  All teeth and nails and dripping blood; pulled hair and vibrant bruises and voices raw with grating cries.

But this?  

This small show of tenderness paired with Clint’s soft appeal moved Loki in a way nothing between them ever had.  It brought a feeling of joy that hearkened back to their first night spent together; when Clint had finally owned up to wanting Loki in return.  A warm flush spread through the god, and his curious expression faded into a pleased smile.

“You only need ask, my Hawk,” he murmured before taking Clint’s hips in a firm hold.

Loki slowly drew his tongue up the underneath of Clint’s cock, and then snugged his mouth over the crown, suckling gently, eyes locked on that sniper’s stare.  He moved in shallow motions, paying thorough attention to the sensitive ridge just below the head of his archer’s arousal.  Flickering the point of his tongue against it; scraping his teeth ever so lightly over it on each backward pull.

Clint’s hands stayed buried in his god’s fall of ebony tresses, simply holding, fingertips stroking as Loki took him ever deeper in tiny, teasing increments.  He stilled his hips, allowing Loki to take him as he wished, _however_ he wished.  

And Clint showed his appreciation through the ragged cries Loki pulled from his throat.

His body shuddered and trembled under Loki’s hands and mouth, and Clint let the pleasure wash over him as it came, flowing with the sensations rather than fight the current.  His head dropped back against the wall as Loki plied him with his mouth, pulled each gasping breath from his lungs as he took it.  He panted and moaned, writhing beneath his god’s attentions despite the firm hold at his hips.  Each wet, grasping plunge only served to heighten his need, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but try to thrust up into that welcoming mouth.

Loki took him eagerly, seeming to revel in even this small show of his desperate want.  Looking down into flashing emerald eyes only told Clint of the answering need of the kneeling god; this was but a small taste, a prelude to what Loki would visit upon him should he ever ask for more.

Clint was tempted, so very tempted to rush things along, to have his god splayed out beneath him, naked and writhing and moaning like a whore.  But not just yet, there was time for that later, after this new creature within him was appeased.

When Loki took him deep, until he was buried in his groin and fought for breath, Clint had finally reached his limit.  He pulled until Loki retreated, giving a long, hard suck to his straining length as he went.  Clint’s knees buckled, and he slid down the wall until he was eye-to-eye with his debauched god, his knees to either side of his lap.

With his hands still buried in his hair, Clint pulled Loki to him, claiming that bruised, panting mouth in a possessive kiss. 

Loki returned the kiss fervently; greedily.  And the small groan Clint voiced over the taste of himself on the god’s tongue sent a shiver down Loki’s spine.  His hands came up to grip Clint’s wrists, and he arched up against his Hawk, grinding his hips into Clint’s own, prompting a needy gasp from the other man.

“Feel what you have done to me,” Loki panted.  ”How undone I am, and without a single touch?  I _ache_ for you.”

Clint gave another small gasp as Loki rocked against him.  The feel of his god, so hard; so insistent, proving beyond the shadow of a doubt how much he was wanted.  And it was as Loki said; he had risen to this state of need without a single touch beyond the archer’s hands buried his hair.  The thought that Loki was this eager simply from providing him pleasure caused a flare of heat to rise in Clint’s belly to accompany the ache in his chest.

He captured Loki’s mouth again, dipping into that wet heat that had so recently been wrapped around him.  He tasted and licked; slowly, languidly, drawing the kiss out into a lazy display of want.  

And Loki murmured against Clint’s questing lips, “Please.  Touch me?”

Without breaking the kiss, he trailed his fingertips down the sides of Loki’s throat before pushing the tattered remnants of the god’s shirt down his arms, baring his torso.  Clint’s hands stroked across Loki’s flanks, tracing the finely muscled frame before him, drawing small circles and abstract shapes atop that pale, smooth skin.

Loki trembled and jerked under his touch, uttering ragged little sighs as Clint mapped every inch of flesh he could reach.  The god’s hips stuttered as the archer’s hands ghosted across the shaking muscles of Loki’s belly, then dipped lower to tease just above the waistband of his pants.

“Oh,” Loki breathed.  ”Yes… _-please, Clint-_!  Touch me…”

 

“I _am_ touching you,” Clint murmured against that panting mouth.  He rested his forehead against Loki’s, holding his gaze as his fingers slipped just beneath the fabric, tugging just enough to rock the god’s body against his.

 

The high, breathy whimper Loki voiced sent a shiver up Clint’s spine; it was a sound of pure want.  There was no demanding, no orders to do as he was told.  Loki simply _wanted_ Clint’s hands on him, he yearned for his touch so badly he could barely put it into words.  His body spoke for him, thrumming beneath Clint’s fingers, and the longer he was made to wait, the stronger the tremors grew. 

Clint licked across the gasping mouth fallen slack with need, dipping inside for a taste before closing his teeth over his lower lip.  He gave a slight tug, just enough to feel the give of the flesh, before he released him.  His fingers went to the button of Loki’s pants, flicking it open with his thumb. 

“Is this what you want?” Clint whispered, drawing the zipper slowly, separating it one tooth at a time.  His free hand roamed over Loki’s back, holding him close to his chest.  “Tell me, Loki.  Tell me what you want.”

He pulled back to look into glazed green eyes, just as his fingers slipped inside to brush against the heavy arousal trapped within.

The shock that ran through Loki’s body at that first light touch was nearly enough to unseat Clint.  The god’s hips arched up, bucking violently, and a spiraling whine spilled from his throat.

“That,” Loki gasped.  ”That is what I want.  Your hands on me.  Please, my Hawk.   _Please!_ ”

Clint backed off just enough to pull Loki up to his knees.  He slid the god’s pants down around his hips and pressed in tight against him, his hand snaking between their bellies to take them both in a tight grip.

“Like this,” he questioned, watching as Loki’s eyes grew hooded and dark with desire.  ”Or like _this_ ,” he asked, giving a slow thrust and drawing a harsh moan from Loki at the silken friction of Clint’s cock sliding against his own.

Loki bent his head to lick a heated stripe up the side of Clint’s throat, moaning out a quiet, “Yes,” as his hips snapped up into the tight tunnel of the archer’s fist.

Clint could feel the trembles wracking Loki’s body as he held the two of them tight together.  He let the god thrust against him, his own hips rising and falling in a slow, steady rock.  Loki’s fingers clutched tightly at his shoulders as he mouthed at the skin of his throat, and Clint buried his face in the fall of dark hair, breathing in the scent of him, laced heavily with his arousal.

It was still so new, to think that someone would want him this much, this completely, that they were happy with simply his touch and nothing else.  To be the focus of such desire, to be the instrument that could bring a god to his knees… it was something Clint had never taken the time to fully accept because he was so sure it couldn’t possibly be the truth.  He’d thought Loki’s words of praise to be nothing but flattery, his way of making Clint feel as though he wasn’t merely a plaything, someone to pass the time until he grew bored.

Loki’s want of Clint went deeper, much deeper than he had ever thought, or let himself believe.  It was clear to him now, after they had laid all of their secrets on the table, that Loki was not merely flattering him, offering him empty words meant to cleave Clint to his side for just a little while longer.

It was just as well, since flattery had never worked on him.  Clint wasn’t with Loki because of what he _said_ , he was with him because something about the dark god tugged at him, made him want to please him in any and every way he could.  The thrall, perhaps, had a little to do with that, but only in the most general sense; it didn’t make him want to see the god breathless and sated, spread out on the sheets below him covered in the sweat and come of an epic ravaging.  It didn’t make him want to hear that pleased little hum when he touched him just right, or see his eyes light up when he said just the right thing.  It didn’t make him want to keep Loki at the front of his thoughts most waking hours, or wonder what the god was doing at any given time when he wasn’t with him.

 

The thrall might have tied them together, but it couldn’t make Clint _love_ him. 

That sudden revelation caused his breath to stutter in his throat, which suddenly felt much too tight to be simple arousal.  Having Loki begging so shamelessly for any scrap of Clint’s affections, and knowing how much those scraps meant to him, how just the slightest touch or word or look from his Hawk could fill that empty space within him, was more than Clint had ever thought he could gain.

With his free arm, Clint pulled Loki tightly against him, trapping their combined arousal between them, still wrapped in his fist.  He gave a firm squeeze and surged forward, sliding his length against Loki’s as he held him still.  He was rewarded with a choked gasp and a plea for more, so he did it again.  And again.  Each thrust brought another moan, another whimper, and Loki’s body sang for him.

The heat and the friction and the sheer _want_ was quickly becoming overwhelming for Loki.  Clint’s arm keeping him tight against that solid frame; the motion of the archer’s hips teasing such exquisite bliss from the god’s body.  Every nerve was aflame, each muscle taut and trembling, and Loki’s focus had tunneled until nothing existed beyond the two of them.

The god’s head fell back, and he keened to the ceiling as Clint’s fist twisted around their girth, nearly tipping Loki over the edge.  His Hawk slowed his motions, licking up the long line of Loki’s throat, ending with a nip at his chin.  

He looked down then and felt a jolt run through him at the expression on Clint’s face.  Still so open, so wanting.  Leaning his forehead against his archer’s, Loki stared into those steel blue eyes and slowly rocked his hips.

The pressure was coiling in the pit of his stomach; a maddeningly dull ache that begged to be sated.  But he was loathe to have this encounter end too soon.  It was too raw, too intimate.  Far beyond any previous instance of what usually came on the heels of angry words, and bitter feelings.  From that first tender stroke of Clint’s thumb over his ear, the god had been painfully aware of that.  And Loki wished to see how different this tryst could truly be.

Loki pressed a small kiss to Clint’s lips, darting his tongue inside to tease against his Hawk’s for a brief moment before pulling back and intensifying his stare.  He poured all of his longing; all his love into his gaze, and when he spoke, his voice trembled.

“Please, Clint,” he whispered.  ”More?  Gift me with all you wish to give, and I shall happily accept it.” 

There was no way Clint could refuse, not when he could hear the tremors in his voice, feel them quaking through his body.  The way he looked at him, as if Clint really was all he wanted and anything he chose to give would be enough, was all the impetus he needed, and Clint knew exactly what he wanted to gift his god with.

With one last parting kiss, Clint leaned back, releasing his tight hold to lean against the wall behind him.  Holding Loki’s gaze, he pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side in favor of watching Loki’s expressions flicker as he bared himself to his eyes.  There was lust, and a certain possessiveness to the way the god’s eyes raked over him, as if taking pride in his ownership over his Hawk.

Clint never thought he would _want_ to be owned.  Once again, he seemed to be making an exception for Loki.

Loki slid long, slender fingers across the skin of his lower belly, teasing just above his groin, and biting his lip at the sight of the hard arousal twitching and straining for his touch.  He was so focused on that, he failed to notice when Clint hooked his thumbs in the waist of his pants and drew them down past his hips, over his legs to his knees.  Only when Clint placed a hand against his chest and pushed him to lay flat did Loki notice his Hawk was stripping himself right before his eyes.  He swallowed and watched as Clint kicked his pants off, now completely bare and kneeling above him.

“You have no idea how much I want to give you,” Clint murmured, leaning down to take those slack lips in a brief kiss. 

Loki’s hands went to his hips, gripping him tightly, waiting for whatever Clint deigned to give him.  A few teasing kisses; a brush of his fingers across his straining length; a nip to his throat.

Then Clint was moving down, trailing that hot mouth across his chest, nuzzling the soft skin of his belly, until his warm breath ghosted across the sensitive crown of his arousal.  A low, pleading whimper left Loki’s throat, his fingers sliding through the soft hair of his head, and his hips lifted just a bit. 

Clint was expecting the begging to start, but it never came; it seemed Loki really was going to wait to see what Clint would give him, without the usual pleas turned demands turned orders.

The god cried out in sudden bliss as Clint’s tongue flicked out to lap at the leaking tip of his cock, and his hips surged up of their own accord, despite his efforts to keep them still.  Clint moved with him, holding himself just above the throbbing flesh, and his eyes lifted to watch the tortured face of his god as he teased him.

He didn’t tease for long, and he lunged forward and took Loki’s cock into his mouth, sucking him down hungrily.  Loki cried out sharply, the fingers stroking his hair suddenly turned to claws, fisting harshly to hold him in place.  Clint let him sit on his tongue, holding himself still until the god’s body could calm, and only when his fingers relaxed their grip did Clint allow himself to move.

He took him deep, playing his tongue over the underside of his cock on each pass, lathing him thoroughly, until he was twitching and shuddering under his mouth.  Clint’s gaze burned into Loki’s as he swallowed around his length, and the god’s head fell back, grinding into the carpet as his hands gently guided that wicked mouth over his length.

Then that delicious wet heat was leaving him, as Clint slid his mouth free, and left him dripping and twitching against his own belly.  Loki’s head lifted and he sent him such a pleading, tortured look that Clint almost wanted to take him back into his mouth, to give Loki the full measure of his talent.

Instead, Clint rose above him, and placed a knee to either side of Loki’s hips.  He lowered himself to grind his arousal against the firm planes of Loki’s belly, and felt the slick friction of the god’s cock against his opening.  Holding Loki’s gaze, Clint reached down and took him in hand, pressing him more firmly against the twitching ring of muscle.

Leaning down, he licked across the slack lips of his stunned god, and murmured, “I’ll give you whatever you want, Princess.”

Loki reached up to cup his hands to either side of Clint’s throat, his thumbs stroking along the archer’s cheekbones as he held that direct gaze.

“Again,” he murmured.  ”What I want is _you_ , Clint.  As it always will be.  Just you.”

“If you want me that badly, Loki, then take me.”

Loki breathed out a quiet incantation, working his magic to slick the hardened flesh that pressed against his Hawk’s entrance, easing the way for what was to come.  He pulled Clint down into a heated kiss, long and languid.  And when they broke for breath, the smaller man arched up, positioning himself carefully before slowly sinking down on Loki’s cock.

A surprised hiss leaked out from between the god’s clenched teeth as he was sheathed within Clint’s tight heat, and his hands lit on his Hawk’s thighs.  He gripped gently, fingertips massaging lightly, feeling the muscles trembling beneath smooth skin.  And when Clint was fully seated, every inch of Loki’s arousal that he could take buried deep within, he uttered a low, rumbling groan and began to move his hips in tight circles.

Loki cried out, his voice mingling with the panting gasps of his Hawk, and he forced himself to lie still, allowing Clint to set the pace.  He watched the myriad of expressions flitting across his archer’s face as he moved.  The furrowed brow giving way to a slackened mouth which in turn led to widened eyes as Loki’s cock brushed over his spot.  The muscles of Clint’s thighs tensed and released, rippling as he increased his motions. The circling hips canted up, and then he was rising before dropping back; rocking steadily.

Dropping his gaze from his Hawk’s face to where they were joined, Loki slid his hands up Clint’s thighs to wrap around that neglected arousal.  He squeezed rhythmically, thrilling to the small, stuttering movements of the other man’s hips, and then he began to stroke slowly from base to tip and back again.  Clint uttered a strangled cry as Loki’s hand twisted around the sensitive crown, slicking his palm with the precursor of Clint’s release.  And then he began to move in earnest, drinking in his Hawk’s throaty moans.

Those moans turned to gasping pants as he looked down at his wanton god, watching as he bit his lip and thrust up into his tight heat even as his hand sped its movements.  Clint leaned back and braced his hands against Loki’s thighs, using the new leverage to get that perfect angle, and he cried out to the ceiling as it caused the hard length within him to graze that spot that threw all thought from his head.  He bucked into the tight tunnel of Loki’s fingers, then ground down onto his cock, and the heat pooling low in his belly began to grow.

Loki’s breath came faster, more urgent as he felt his Hawk’s body tightening, the muscles of his thighs trembling with the strain of his movements.  He watched Clint’s chest heave with the shuddering, panting breaths he drew as he arched back to take the god deep inside.

It only spurred him to quicken his pace, to watch his Hawk come undone above and around him, to hear those hitching breaths become ragged, desperate moans and cause his body to pitch and shudder atop him.

Steel-blue eyes cracked open to gaze down into glazed green, taking in the sight of Loki accepting everything Clint was giving him.  He saw every bit of the desire he felt for him, reflected back in each gasp and moan and whimper, each flicker of emotion in his eyes.

Just the sight of Loki gazing up at him with such uncensored emotion pushed Clint just that much farther toward the edge of release.  It was the knowledge that he was wanted, more than the physical sensations that pulled the shuddering whimpers from his throat.  His hips stuttered in their rhythm as he felt his control slipping.

Dropping his head, Clint held Loki’s gaze steadily as he said, “Fuck me, Loki.  _Please…_ ”

Loki whimpered lightly at Clint’s request, his hips arching up, driving deeper into his Hawk.  The feel of him; the smell of sweat and arousal, and the sight of Clint rocked back on his hands, every muscle of that glorious frame taut and trembling; it all combined to drive Loki to new heights.  

Pushing himself upright, he slid his free hand around Clint’s back, molding his archer against him.  The smaller man gave a gasp at the change in angle, and Loki mouthed at Clint’s throat, murmuring against that thundering pulse, “You needn’t even ask.”

Pulling his hand from Clint’s leaking arousal; Loki carefully turned his Hawk, laying him on his back without breaking the delicious contact between them.  Clint’s legs fell open as Loki braced himself just above his Hawk, close enough to feel the waves of heat coming off the archer’s frame.  He pulled back slightly before sliding forward at a maddeningly slow pace, rocking into the pliant body that writhed and shook beneath him.

Clint stared up into Loki’s eyes, drinking in the intense emotion that caused those bright green eyes to glitter in return.  The ache in his chest nearly outweighed the coiled spring of tension that was wound around his spine, and the gasping cry Clint gave as Loki plied his body held an edge of desperation like none he had ever felt before.

His hands came up to cup Loki’s face, and Clint pulled him into a searing kiss, hoping that the god could feel every ounce of desire and affection he carried within himself.

Clint knew what it did to Loki when he submitted himself.  It happened so rarely, and only after he’d put up a struggle and lost the fight for dominance.  It usually culminated in a heated frenzy of biting, scratching, and harsh, bestial rutting, the rougher the better.  Clint had never submitted without a fight, he made Loki earn every thrust within him.

The significance of Clint _offering_ himself like this was not lost on the dark god; Clint did not surrender, he did not give in, and he showed throat for no one.  No one but Loki.

And while Loki knew Clint could take him even in his most insatiable form, he did not rush ahead to sate himself.  Instead, he focused on their joining, on showing Clint just how much his gift was appreciated.

Each of Clint’s cries were swallowed as soon as they were voiced as Loki rocked slowly, pushing deep inside with every thrust.  His hands moved down his throat, over his shoulders to splay across his back, gripping the sweat-slick skin as tightly as he could.  The heat was growing almost unbearable now, rising up to choke the breath from his lungs, and still Loki’s movements were unhurried, a slow, steady rhythm that was edging him closer and closer to his end.

Clint pulled away from the greedy mouth and buried his face against Loki’s shoulder, clutching him tightly as the heat suddenly flared, his lower belly tightening almost painfully with his impending release.  His gasping cries were muffled into sweat-damp hair, and his hands slid around Loki’s back, holding him tightly as his body trembled dangerously close to the edge.

Loki held his Hawk close, rocking into him at such a slow pace that they both could feel every motion, every twitch and trembling muscle, every shuddering breath.  The god could feel Clint’s end approaching.  The way his fingers clutched, and the growing tightness surrounding his thick flesh signaling that the archer was close.

He picked up his pace slightly, still moving much more slowly, more gently than their usual coupling.  And Loki felt such a wash of gratitude and love sweep through him as Clint clung more tightly to his god.  Those gasping cries were urging him on; the wordless pleading of his Hawk sending a spike of arousal straight to Loki’s belly.

The urge to claim still lay coiled within him.  The feral need to snarl and bite and claw.  But this day had brought them almost to the end, and that had frightened Loki badly.  His deepest fear was losing Clint, either through his own destructive actions or the slow march of Time taking its’ toll on his Hawk.  Now that that had been averted, Loki wished for nothing more than the chance to prove how deeply his love ran.

Turning his head, Loki drew his tongue along the shell of Clint’s ear before asking, “What have I done to deserve so wonderful a gift as this? To deserve someone such as yourself?”

Clint’s hands slid into Loki’s hair, pulling his head up to look into his face.  He held the bright emerald gaze of his god as he pressed their foreheads together, until they were breathing the same air.

“Don’t,” he said, his breath hitching in his throat.  “We got into enough trouble because of those questions.  Don’t ask me that.”

His head fell back as Loki surged forward, sliding deeply into him, and he felt the hard press of teeth against the skin of his throat.  He could feel how badly Loki wanted to take his flesh between his teeth, he could almost hear his jaw creaking with the effort it took to hold back.  Instead, he mouthed and licked at his pulse, and Clint’s hands held him in place.

The pace Loki had set was maddening, just enough to tease him close to the edge, but not nearly enough to tip him over it.  His body thrummed, he could feel the god’s pulse deep within him, his own a matching rhythm Loki traced with his tongue.  His fingers tightened in the sweat-damp fall of Loki’s hair, straining for that one thing that would pitch him over and grant him release.

“Loki…,” he gasped, his voice laced with desperate want.  “More… _Please…?_ ”

 

Loki groaned at the sound of Clint’s words.  He loved it so when his Hawk begged.  It broke the god completely to hear his archer dismiss his pride in favor of pleading for that which he so craved.  It went against everything Clint was; wiped away the self-confident, slightly egotistical man Loki knew, and allowed the needy, _wanting_ side of Clint to emerge.

The knowledge that Loki was what Clint needed at this moment was nearly enough to make the god spill then and there.

“More,” he murmured into Clint’s ear, darting his tongue out to trace the delicate shell.  ”I shall gladly give you more, my Hawk.   _Whatever_ you need; _however_ you need it.”

Loki pushed himself up to kneel between Clint’s spread thighs, and he drew back slowly, dragging a cry from the man beneath him at the slick, wet glide of flesh.  Taking the backs of Clint’s knees in a firm grip, Loki pushed his Hawk’s legs back, opening the smaller man to him.  The wail the archer voiced, paired with the frantic circling of his hips brought a feral grin to Loki’s face.

“So eager,” he cooed.  ”Patience, Clint.  You shall soon have what you are pleading for…and beyond.”

“Please,” Clint sobbed out, his hands clutching at the carpet.  ”Loki, _please_!  Fuck me!”

And with a slight growl, Loki snapped his hips forward, filling his Hawk completely.

Clint’s body arched, bucking hard beneath the god pinning him.  His jaw clenched, trapping the near-scream in his throat as he felt Loki bury himself deeper.  His pulse thundered in his ears, his lungs seemed unable to pull in enough air, and the tight coil of need in his belly drew tighter.

“ _Yes!_ ” he cried as his hands flew to grip Loki’s thighs, nails digging into the flesh almost hard enough to break the skin.  “Just like that… so deep…” 

He moved his hips as much as Loki’s hold on him would allow, his body straining for every bit of contact he could get.  His eyes burned up at his god, equal parts pleading and demanding. 

Loki seemed to take that as a sign, and he began to thrust into his Hawk’s pliant, willing body, spurred on by the sting of his nails digging into the flesh of his thighs, his gasping, panting moans, and the tight, clenching heat surrounding him.

Those moans soon became a litany of Loki’s name, peppered with sharp curses and choking pleas.

Clint had never shown this side of himself before.  He hadn’t even known it had existed until now, but he was not surprised that Loki had managed to coax it out of hiding; his god was adept at drawing hidden pieces of himself to the surface.  It only served to show him how very much he trusted him, to be able to show this much of himself, all the ways in which he was weak and vulnerable.

He looked up into Loki’s face and saw only his need for him, the desire to give him what he needed, all the love Loki was constantly telling him he felt for his Hawk.

Clint’s hand left its place and flew to grip the back of Loki’s neck, pulling him down even as he surged up, to claim his mouth in a bruising kiss.  Loki’s arms wound around his back, pulling him up into his lap, and he moaned against Clint’s mouth as the motion drove him further within him.  Clint only clutched at him tighter, wrapping his free arm around Loki’s shoulders to hold himself up, and rocked his hips against his god.  The motion sent a jolt of heat through him as his neglected cock was trapped between them, sliding along the firm muscles of Loki’s belly.

“So close,” he gasped when they broke apart for air.  “I can’t-… Loki, _please!_ “  It was very nearly a sob.

“And still you want more,” Loki asked, his lips brushing against Clint’s panting mouth.

“Yes,” Clint cried, tightening his hold around Loki’s shoulder.  ”I-I _need_ …”

“I know what you need,” the god cut in as his free hand snaked between their bodies.  He wrapped long fingers around his Hawk’s arousal, and leaned back to watch the flurry of emotions skating across Clint’s face.

He loved the moment of stillness that overtook Clint when he laid hands upon his body.  The sudden tensing of that solid frame as the archer processed this new feeling.  The way his eyes would go wide and wild, darkening with lust, and the gasping, strained breaths that fell from slack lips.  

And then that moment would pass, and his Hawk would come alive under his touch.  

This time was no different, and Clint shuddered, his hips jerking violently, seeking the friction he needed in the palm of Loki’s hand.  A whining cry rose in his chest before spilling from a throat gone raw, and the god began to stroke slowly.

“Is this what you _need_ , Clint?  What you _desire_ ,” Loki questioned, his voice gone over to that smoky rasp that never failed to stir the beast in Clint’s belly.  ”My hands on you, plying your flesh as I’m buried so very deep within?  Shall I bring you to ruin now, my Hawk?  Shall I show you how very much you are _wanted_?”

That voice slid against Clint’s ears, the words wrapping around his mind just as those fingers were wrapped around his cock, and doing just as much to drag him closer to his end.  His hips rutted back and forth, fucking himself onto Loki’s invading length and into his fist in the same motion.

“Show me,” he panted.  “Please!”

He knew what his begging did to the god, and he knew he would get what he asked for.  But the path to that end was an exquisite torture, and he never knew exactly _when_ Loki would grant his request.  He was so close already, it wouldn’t take much to finish him, and he was more than half tempted to reach between them and take himself in hand, give himself that last push over the edge.

But no, he needed it to be Loki, or it would be just another mindless release. 

The beast wanted to be sated, but there was also something else within him, as fragile and vulnerable as a puppy, and it only wanted to be loved, to make him happy, to know that it was enough for his fallen god to want to stay with him.  It was desperate, and needy, and selfish, but it was also devoted entirely to one thing, and that was Loki.

And it had been kicked very hard, intentionally or not.

“Please, Loki,” Clint gasped against his god’s panting mouth.  “Show me how much you want me.  Make me come for you.”

 

“If I had but an eternity, then perhaps I could show you _exactly_ how much I want you,” Loki rumbled, his hand moving faster over Clint’s leaking arousal.  ”This will have to be enough for now.”

 

The god thrust up into his Hawk from beneath as he stroked faster, that voice still murmuring in the smaller man’s ear.  ”Never have I taken as much pleasure in making another come undone.  Never has there been one such as _you_ , Clint.  You have taken up residence in my very heart, and my thoughts are never far from you.  I want nothing more than to bring you pleasure with all that I do; to be the impetus of happiness.  And to convince you that you are _all_ I want.  That you are more than enough to hold my love.”  

 

Loki paused, bright green eyes searching his archer’s hooded gaze before he continued.  ”So come for me, then, Clint.  Let me show you the full measure of my want…and _come_.”

And finally, those words were enough, and Clint buried his face in Loki’s shoulder as his body pitched and shook above and around him.  It wasn’t the sharp, focused pleasure he normally felt, but spread through his entire body, each pulse of his need echoing in every part of him, until he felt as though he was melting into the solid body holding him close.  His arms held tight as the hand wrapped around his throbbing length stroked him slowly through his release, the hips thrust languidly into him, still not rushing, even in this.

The feeling swelling in Clint’s chest was more than just simple affection, and he wanted nothing more than to give voice to it, to tell Loki exactly what it was, but still he held back from saying it.  Not now, while their wounds were still so raw, in the heat and desperation of the moment.  It would be too easy for Loki to assume he was simply caught in the aftermath of such an emotional release. 

When Clint said it, he wanted there to be no doubt in either of their minds.

Instead, he held tight and rocked against his god through his release, panting and gasping his moans into his ear.  He let him know with his body exactly what he’d done to him, and was rewarded with a pleased rumble from deep within Loki’s chest.

It was not lost on Clint that Loki hadn’t followed, he was still hard and wanting, and Clint moved atop him with a new purpose; to pull Loki over that edge along with him.  Even as his body still shook and trembled with aftershocks, Clint still strained to bring him to his end.

Clint pressed his lips against the shell of Loki’s ear and moaned, “Come with me, Loki.  I want to feel you inside me.  _All_ of you.  Please?”

“As long as you employ that pleading tone, I shall deliver anything you ask of me,” Loki gasped.

His Hawk’s release still pooled between them, the warmth soaking into Loki’s belly and nudging him closer to his own end.  The wet slide of their skin served as a reminder of Clint’s desire, and Loki felt himself teetering on the brink of ecstasy.  And as the archer’s motions became more frantic, his hips rolling sinuously, the god clenched his teeth and growled.

That clenching heat surrounding his length grew tighter still, and Clint’s ragged breath fanned over Loki’s throat as that voice came again.  ”Y-you’re close, aren’t you,” it stuttered, a hint of desperation still evident in the tone.  ”Please, Loki.  Come for me?  I need to feel your heat.   _Please?_ ”

That final ‘please’ was enough to make Loki abandon the slow, steady pace he had been keeping, and with a strained groan he lifted his archer slightly and snapped his hips up.  

Clint cried out; a mixture of bliss and relief as Loki finally gave in to his requests and surged into him.  It only took a handful of thrusts before the god buried his face in Clint’s throat and muffled the sound of his release against the sweat-slicked skin of his Hawk.

And as he came, vision washed red and the thunder of his pulse ringing in his ears, Loki panted in a wrung out voice, “For you, Clint.  All for you.”

Clint leaned back just enough to look into Loki’s face, to watch him as he finally broke apart.  His eyes were heavy-lidded and unfocused, his mouth open and panting, and Clint darted forward and licked across those slack lips before diving inside.  Loki’s moans and gasps were muffled, but Clint didn’t need to hear them, he could feel the body trembling beneath him, the desperate clutching arms wrapped around him, and the pulsing flesh deep inside.

“ _Mine_ ,” he breathed against Loki’s mouth when he pulled back for air.  He took the god’s face in his hands, levering his head up to look into his eyes.  He held his gaze until he could see them begin to clear, and when he knew he had the full measure of the god’s attention, after his body had calmed, “And I’m yours.”

Loki’s breath hitched at Clint’s words, and the warm glow that had spread through him upon his release intensified.  Tightening his hold on his Hawk, the god met his gaze directly, holding his silence for a long moment before beginning to speak.

“That is all I have ever wanted, Clint.  To be called yours, and have you wish for the same in return.  You…cannot imagine the importance of these words to me.”

With a pleased hum, Loki brushed his lips over Clint’s, murmuring, “Yours.  As much as you are mine.  And so it will remain, for as long as you will have me.  I hope that that will be for a very long time to come.”  

Loki paused then, eyes searching Clint’s before continuing.  ”I-I may not have much to give, my Hawk, but I do know how to love.  I can only hope that you will continue to allow me to love you.”

Clint couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, and the eyes that met Loki’s sparkled with amusement.

“Shut up,” he said affectionately.  “I think we already established we’re pretty much stuck with each other.  If you haven’t dumped me by now, you’re not going to.  And as for what you can give… I don’t need much.  Just you.”

What Clint spoke was nothing but the truth, but he often forgot how much his blunt honesty affected his god.  He was used to hearing things couched in long-winded, winding rhetoric. He’d heard Thor speak the same way, and figured that must be how it was done where they were from.  Clint preferred to speak his mind as it came to him, and often, that left him little in the way of a buffer.

His words now, as raw and unfiltered as they always were, should tell Loki all he needed to know of Clint’s feelings.  He _would_ tell him, eventually, but for now, he would let this serve in its place.

“Actually, I do need something…,” he continued.

Loki blinked up at him, equal parts curious and eager.  “What would that be, my Hawk?  Name it, and it will be yours.”

A smirk crossed Clint’s face as he said, “Mind giving me a lift to the shower?  I don’t think I can walk.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched upward and he tsk’d lightly.  ”Have I broken you so completely, My Hawk,” he asked, scarcely bothering to hide the pride in his tone.  ”And after I took such _care_.  So fragile, you mortals are,” he concluded in a teasing manner.

“Fragile,” Clint scoffed.  ”Yeah, that’s totally me.  Careful with the harsh words, Princess, or you might hurt my _feelings_.”

“And we would not want that, would we,” Loki returned with a fond smile. He slowly eased Clint up off of his lap, the archer’s thigh muscles trembling under the god’s stroking palms.  As Loki stood to his feet he pulled Clint up with him, giving a concerned look to the smaller man as he gave a pained hiss.

“Have I truly hurt you,” the god asked quickly.

“No,” Clint reassured him.  ”I’m just a little stiff, is all.”

“Good,” Loki grinned.  ”Then you will take no issue with this.”  And saying so, he scooped Clint up and threw him over one shoulder, chuckling at the startled squawk his archer voiced.

“What’re you…?  Loki,  _put me down!_ ”

“Be still, Clint,” the god laughed.  ”I am simply granting your request.  Did you not say you were unable to walk?”

“I was _kidding_!  You know?  Jokes?”

“No matter,” Loki stated as he wrapped one arm around the back of Clint’s legs to steady him.  ”As I said, all you need do is ask, and I shall provide.”  And with that, he crossed the room toward the bath, ignoring the half-hearted struggles and dire mutterings of his Hawk.

 


End file.
